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authorPatrick Goltzsch <pg (at) in-transit.cc>2022-09-09 22:42:33 +0200
committerPatrick Goltzsch <pg (at) in-transit.cc>2022-09-09 22:42:33 +0200
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+<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
+<!DOCTYPE html>
+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
+<head>
+ <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8" />
+ <link href="../../Styles/style.css" rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" />
+ <title>Der Gerührte</title>
+</head>
+<body>
+
+<div class="poem">
+
+ <h3 class="center">Der Gerührte</h3>
+
+<p>
+<span class="vers vindent">Ich habe gern verlassen</span><br />
+<span class="vers vindent">Den lauten Tod der Stadt,</span><br />
+<span class="vers vindent">Der tausend Fratzen hat,</span><br />
+<span class="vers vindent">Die gelbe Nacht der Gassen.</span>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+<span class="vers vindent">Ich schreite in den weiten,</span><br />
+<span class="vers vindent">Silbrigen Himmel ein;</span><br />
+<span class="vers vindent">Die frommen Glieder gleiten</span><br />
+<span class="vers vindent">Tief in das sanfte Sein.</span>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+<span class="vers vindent">Ich bin im weißen Leuchten</span><br />
+<span class="vers vindent">Von Wolke, Wiese, Wind.</span><br />
+<span class="vers vindent">Bin Baum, bin Dorf, bin Kind...</span><br />
+<span class="vers vindent">Wie sich die Augen feuchten.–</span>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+<span class="vers vindent">Bald wird am Silberende</span><br />
+<span class="vers vindent">Der grüne Abend stehn...</span><br />
+<span class="vers vindent">Ich hebe selge Hände –</span><br />
+<span class="vers vindent">Will ihm entgegengehn –</span>
+</p>
+
+</div>
+
+</body>
+</html>